


Blame It On the Alcohol

by littlelobster



Category: Philippine elections
Genre: ALSO not beta read, M/M, RP69Fanfic, just take it, take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelobster/pseuds/littlelobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baste, Paolo, Sandro, and Brian share a much-needed break after the tiring elections. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On the Alcohol

“You ready for tonight bro?” Baste crooned, draping his arm over his shoulder.

He threw his arm off and shoved him away.

“Cut it out, Baste. I’m doing something.”

Baste laughed, a low melody under his breath. “Stingy as always, Pao-Pao. You’ll get old, you know.”

Paolo let out a long sigh, annoyance barely concealed. His pile of post-elections paperwork clearly showed he’s got no time for this.

“Wow, that face says you’ve got no time for this.” Paolo wanted to wipe the laughter off his raised eyebrows.

“It’s no fun without you though.” Baste mimicked chugging off a bottle. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight, ‘kay bro?”

Baste ruffled his hair stood up to leave.

“Look, I _told_ you--”

“Oh Paolo, I know you can’t resist me.”

Paolo fixed him with a glare then, channeling all the irritation and exhaustion from the past few weeks to his eyes.

Baste blew him a kiss, then left.

-

“New shoes again, Bry?”

Brian smirked, and lifted up his white sneaker-clad foot.

Sandro rolled his eyes at Baste, who kicked the foot away with a huff. “I swear, this bastard has new shoes every week.”

The self-admitted bastard laughed, picking up his glass. “Speaking of bastards, where’s our little papa’s boy Paolo?”

Sandro’s glass was downed in one shot. “Yeah, yeah! We got to celebrate! These elections were so long, I’m soooooo tired!”

Baste knocked on his head. Sandro’s refilled glass sloshed. “Are you really already drunk? Your lightweightness is no honestly no joke, you sure you should be even drinking?” he said with that trademark mocking laugh.

Sandro dropped his head on his shoulder and reached out his finger to poke his cheek. “Shut uuuup, Sebby,” his voice drawled. “Tonight I’m drinking to forget.”

The appointed dad of the group sighed, though a grin played on his face. “Alright, alright. But if you’re going to puke on anyone, do it on Brian.”

Brian subtly moved his expensive white shoes out of sight. Sandro stuck his tongue out at him.

“No, but seeeeriously, where’s Pao-pao?” asked Sandro, absentmindedly running his finger over the rim of his glass.

“I told him to come.” Baste took a sip from his drink. “He should be here any moment.”

The door swung open.

“Speak of the devi--”

Three pairs of eyes stared at the newcomer.

“What?” Paolo asked, wide-eyed.

Brian clicked his tongue. “Seriously, Paolo. Do you really have to wear that damn yellow even _after_ the elections? We’re all trying to forget that crap here.”

Paolo looked down, and blinked at his familiarly yellow shirt. “Oh. Damn habit.” He gestured to the door. “Should I get changed?”

“Nah, just get the hell over here.” Sebastian stood up and dragged him by the arm. “Sit.” He pushed him down on the couch.

Brian poured him a drink and slid it on the table to him.

Baste took the glass and held it out to Paolo. “Drink.”

Paolo rolled his eyes at him. “Baste, you know I don’t drink.”

Baste raised his eyebrows in a way that was so sarcastic Paolo wanted to punch him. “Oh? Does little Pao-pao need cranberry juice instead?”

Paolo took the drink from him and gently laid it down on the table.

“You’re as lame as usual, Paolo.” Brian sipped his drink, legs crossed.

“Oh noooooo….” Sandro tipped the last few drops of liquor into his glass. “We’re out of boooooooooze………” he whined, clearly drunk.

“Get more then? This is your place, isn’t it?” Brian replied.

Sandro woozily crawled over to Brian, then plopped on his lap. “Carry me.” He refused to move.

Brian sighed loudly, and brought his glass down on the table. “You bigass baby.” He smacked the unmoving boy on the butt to make him move. Then he stood up and opened his arms, waiting.

Sandro happily jumped up and latched himself onto Brian’s torso like a koala. Not unused to this, Brian grabbed his thighs to support him, as Sandro wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck, content.

“So?” Brian prompted. “Where is it?”

Sandro nuzzled his nose against Brian’s neck. “Cupboard’s that way~,” he whispered, pointing down the hall to the left.

Brian looked over at Baste and Paolo, who were boredly watching Sandro’s drunk antics, like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. “Be right back,” he told them. “Don’t have too much fun without us.”

Sandro hummed as they left the room.

“So.” Baste broke the silence, “You came after all.”

Paolo wanted to wipe that grin off his face. “Just a coincidence. I wanted a break, that’s all,” he replied.

Baste draped his arm over Paolo’s shoulder and dragged him closer. “Really. So you didn’t come because you wanted to see me?” he whispered in Paolo’s ear.

Paolo hit his side lightly. “Of course I didn’t, asshole. Now get off.”

Baste planted a kiss on his lips.

“You’re such a bad liar, you know that? Just like your dad,” he quipped.

Paolo placed his palms on his chest and attempted to push him off. “What was that about my da--”

Baste cut him off with a rough kiss. 

Flames seared on his skin as Baste attacked his lips with an intensity he had never seen before. He was always so placid during his father’s rallies, but feeling this passion in the way his tongue ravished his mouth makes everything in the past sound like a mere joke.

Hair was grabbed. Sighs escaped. Paolo could barely hold back his voice as Baste licked and nipped on his neck, leaving marks under the collar of his shirt.

Baste’s hand was crawling on the inside of his thigh when Paolo heard footsteps down the hall Brian and Sandro disappeared to.

“Ba… Baste, they’re back-- mmh-!” Baste’s attention went back to his lips, and his tongue probed back into his mouth.

“Baste…. aah, mn--” he managed in between sighs, “Baste… fuck-- Sebastian, _jesus,_ they’re coming _back_.” Irritated, Paolo shoved him off just as Brian and Sandro emerged from the corner.

Baste chuckled at his infuriated eyes, as Paolo struggled to fix his disheveled shirt and hair.

He leaned over and whispered, “You’re drooling, you know.”

Paolo fixed him with an icy glare as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We’re baaaaack~” Sandro sang, victoriously holding two bottles of liquor.

Brian took in Paolo’s redness and Baste’s stupid-looking grin, and raised an eyebrow. Though Sebastian winked at him and he decided to let it go.

“Can you get off now?” he asked Sandro, who was still koala-style clinging to him.

“Nope~ Put me there.” Sandro pointed to the couch with a big smile.

Brian sighed, but he complied anyway, gently letting Sandro down on the couch like you would a child. 

He finally sat down and poured himself a new drink. He decided to tease for the heck of it. “So… what were you doing while we were gone?”

Paolo flitted his eyes. “Nothing,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Just talking.”

“Oh Paolo here’s a really loud talker.” Baste smiled.

Paolo stomped on his foot under the table.

“Well, anyway,” Paolo attempted to change the subject. “Wanna bet on who’s going to win?”

Brian groaned. “Ugh, can we not? I don’t want to hear anything that has anything to do with this elections.

“Why? Scared mommy’s going to lose?” Baste smirked.

“Can it, Sebastian Duterte.” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Well at least I’m not fighting any of -- *hic* -- you,” Sandro said, trying hard to force himself to sober up. “Our only real opponent is Tricia’s mom-- oh yeah, anyone seen Tricia lately?”

“Tricia? I’ve been seeing her everyday,” Paolo spoke up.

“Hm?” Baste raised an eyebrow at this.

Brian sensed the tension and can’t help but butt in. “You sure you’re not going out yet, Pao~lo?” he said, smile on his face.

“Shut up, Bry.” Paolo sighed.

“Somebody didn’t answer the question~” Sandro picked up, insensitive as ever. 

Brian laughed. “Well at least give us a call if you decide to get married. I’ll be your best man.”

Baste threw a pillow at him. “Idiot. Of course I’m this guy’s best man,” he said, dropping his hand on Paolo’s thigh. Rather possessively, Brian noticed.

“But anyway guys, am I the only one pissed off with all this yellow?” Sandro butted in, running his fingers over the sleeves of Paolo’s shirt. “It’s so bright it hurts my eyes.”

Brian took a sip. “I bet his daddy made him wear that.”

Paolo rolled his eyes. “Leave me alone.”

Laughing, Baste tugged at his shirt. “Why not just take it off? We’re all guys here,” he challenged. “Unless you’re embarrassed~?”

Paolo wasn’t the most comfortable taking his shirt off in front of other people, but the glint in Sebastian’s eyes made it impossible to back down. He lifted his shirt off his head.

Baste took the shirt from him and threw it across the room. He seized Paolo’s bare torso, raking his eyes over the defined lines of his abdomen.

“Been working out?” he inquired.

Paolo shrugged, though a little unnerved from Baste’s gaze. “A little here and there. When I got time.”

“Hmm…” Baste curled his lips into a smile. He lifted his hand and began to gently run his fingers over Paolo’s abdomen; it was the right amount of softness and hard muscle, he mused, as he traced the hard-earned grooves on his supple skin. “Trying to look good for someone? That Tricia girl, maybe?” he teased.

“Don’t be an idiot. We’re just friends.” Paolo tried to compose himself while withstanding the goosebumps left behind by Sebastian’s feathery touch.

“ _‘We’re just friends,’_ ” Baste mimicked. “What a showbiz thing to say, Pao.” His fingers inched up to his chest, lightly feeling the smooth muscles in that area.

“Cut it ou--” Paolo was about to flick off his hand when Baste (intentionally?) brushed over his half-erect nipple. “Nn-” His voice slipped out. His breath caught in his throat.

Baste raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Oh? Sensitive, are we?”

“Hey what’s this, what’s this?” Sandro perked up, finally intrigued.

“Apparently Paolo here is sensitive in certain… _places._ ” Baste was repeatedly rubbing over Paolo’s now fully-erect nipple.

Paolo glared at him forcefully, biting his lip to stop any more noises from slipping through.

Eyes filled with mirth, Sandro crawled over to Paolo and took the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. _Pinch._

“Mm-!!” Paolo protested, smacking Sandro’s hand away. Sandro laughed with glee.

“Hey come here, Bry! This is fun!” he called out.

Brian let out a long laugh, watching them with amused eyes. “Seriously what are you, a BL character?” he mocked, but moved to get up anyway.

Sandro leaned in and took a long lick at his painfully erect nipple, enjoying the way he shivered under his touch. 

“Come on, guys -- mnh -- stop this…” Paolo got out, audibly out of breath.

“Hey…” Baste hotly whispered in his ear, “Wanna do it?”

“Do… what?” Paolo whispered back, his face red and hot as Sandro took his nipple in his mouth and began sucking and licking around it.

“Don’t be such a virgin… Paolo.” Hearing his name whispered in his ear made Paolo shiver in spite of himself. “Let’s fuck.”

At this, Baste grabbed the back of his head and swallowed Paolo’s sighs with his mouth. He slipped his tongue in and kissed him with as much passion as earlier, until they can’t hear or see anything other than their heated breaths.

Paolo’s moans slipped out in between gasps of breath as Baste attacked his lips mercilessly while Sandro sucked and played with his sensitive nipples.

Seeing the two of them too busy to even notice that there were still other people in the room, Sandro made a move to unbuckle Paolo’s belt, but Brian stopped him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

Sandro stopped his hands. “Hm?” he questioned.

Brian sighed. “Do you really need to butt in all the time?”

Sandro grinned. He stood up from the couch and went on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Brian’s neck. “Jealous, _babe?_ ” 

Brian was about to retort, when Sandro planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

Eyes closed, lips gently locked, the two of them backed up until Brian’s thighs hit the edge of the table.

Sandro separated from the kiss, showed him a smile, then forcefully bent him over the table.

“The _fuck?_ ” Brian protested.

Sandro leaned over and slyly pressed his hard-on to the back of his thigh. “I’m horny too, you know.”

“Sandro, I swear, you become 60% more of an idiot when you’re drunk.” Brian sighed, as Sandro spread his legs and positioned himself between them.

“Oh, but you love it.” Sandro took his earlobe in his mouth, and grabbed his hardening dick through his pants.

Brian let out a low groan at his touch. He involuntarily began to shake his ass over Sandro’s hard-on as Sandro squeezed and caressed him through two layers of clothing.

It was maddening. “Fuck,” Brian got out. “Just put it in.”

Sandro smirked as he felt Brian’s painful hardness in his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck you, I’m sure. There’s lube in my bag. Hurry.” Brian was pleading.

Sandro left him to get his bag, and Brian collapsed on the table with his ass in the air, breathing heavily. 

When Sandro came back with the bottle of lube, he hoisted Brian’s body up and almost tore off his pants and boxers when taking them off. Brian undid, almost yanked, off the buttons off his shirt as he waited impatiently. 

Sandro kissed Brian’s smooth neck as he coated his fingers with ample lube, then gently pressed one finger inside his hole. Brian bit his lip, taking him in eagerly. Sandro inserted another finger a few moments later, and took careful measures to stretch him out. He was gentle and patient as he thrust his fingers in Brian’s accommodating hole. At some point he found his prostate and teasingly pressed on it, making Brian cry out beneath him.

Brian glared at him from over his shoulder. “ _Just put it the fuck in,_ ” he spit out, weakly, in contrast to the frustration and embarrassment on his face.

Sandro laughed his annoyingly innocent laugh. “Impatient, I see.” He took his fingers out and began unbuckling his belt. He was impatient too, as he took his pants and underwear off in hurried, yanking motions. 

He took out his erect dick, and coated it with the lube. Poised at the entrance of his hole, he whispered against Brian’s back, “Ready?”

But he gave him no time to even nod, as he inserted the tip into Brian’s welcoming hole. He slowly, slowly, slowly inched his way in until his full length is inside Brian’s body.

“Still deliciously tight,” he muttered, as a groan made its way through his throat.

Sandro began to thrust, slowly at first, then rougher and rougher until the table is shaking and Brian stopped giving a damn about muffling his moans and erotic sighs.

“Sa… Sandro… -- _aah,_ fuck -- I’m coming....” Brian got out in between cries of pleasure.

“Me… too…. ugh--” Sandro let out a deep groan, as he felt his climax slowly approaching.

Tears began to flow from Brian’s eyes as he felt himself almost there, almost there…

Sandro grabbed Brian’s head and kissed him, as he reached his climax and released his pent-up load deep into Brian’s rectum.

Brian came at the same time, crying out as his thick semen emptied out on the floor.

They rode their climax until they were both spent and breathing heavily, with Sandro collapsing on Brian onto the table.

“Ugh… heavy…” Brian complained, flipping Sandro over until they were lying side by side on the table.

“That was… great…” Sandro gasped for breath.

“You’re such an idiot…” Brian huffed, his eyes flitting to the side, and yet his hand timidly reached for Sandro’s hand.

Sandro grinned, linking their hands together.

“Heehee, you love me~” he said, happily, as he kissed Brian’s lips one more time.

Meanwhile,

The other two were oblivious to anything in the room, as Paolo’s arms splayed on the couch; the normally indifferent yet pleasant boy was shivering and gasping in pleasure, while Baste pounded his ass as if their lives depended on it.

“Baste… please, more… I’m so close -- aah!” Paolo pleaded for release, his nails digging into the black leather of the couch.

“Heh. And just a while ago you were, ugh, resisting--” Baste let out a low grunt as he focused on thrusting into Paolo’s sensitive prostate.

“Shut… up…. aaah, fuck!” Paolo cried out, melting from the sensations Baste is giving him.

Baste engaged him in a messy kiss, licking and sucking and entwining their tongues against each other. Paolo closed his eyes, allowing the pleasure building up within him to overwhelm his senses.

“Hey Paolo -- ngh, shit -- can I come inside?” Baste growled lowly in his ear.

“Do… mmn… do whatever you want…” Paolo could barely speak.

Baste ensnared his mouth again, as he climaxed inside him, letting spurts and spurts of hot semen fill his stomach.

Paolo sobbed, waves of pleasure ambushing him as he let out his own load in an intense orgasm.

Baste pulled out and looked at Paolo through half-lidded eyes: at his overly red face, his slightly open mouth, gasping for breath, his sticky skin stained with his own semen, his still throbbing hole, dripping with the fluid he let out inside him.

“God, I love you.” Baste smiled at him with the beautifully bright smile he saves only for him.

“You asshole.” Paolo averted his eyes.

… “I love you too.”


End file.
